LOG ENTRY: 375

DATE: 21 December 2099

TIME: 10:15 PM

LOCATION: Centre for Population Control (CPC) Research Laboratory. (Exact location undisclosed.)

Dr. Ezra Mayur, Microbiologist & Epidemiologist. Expertise: Designer Pathogens.

Mum used to say, find a job you love, and you'll never have to work a day in your life. I used to think she was right for a long time. Now, I'm not so sure. If she could see me. She'd be ashamed.

I have blood on my hands. Countless blood on my hands, ones I can't wash off, no matter how hard I try.

She typed, despite her hands shaking like a leaf. Despite the blaring sirens deafening her, with their continued shrill. Ezra typed. She wanted the world to know what was about to happen was all her fault. All her fault. A sin she could never atone for.

Millions, maybe even billions. Oh, God. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. It's out of my control. May Gods have mercy on your souls, and mine...

If you are reading this, please, get somewhere safe. Now. Somewhere isolated. Away from people. Especially away from the government. Take provisions, as much as you can, and do not, for the love of God, do not go out into the population.

It's coming, the first wave. It's coming. The deal I made with the devil has come at a price. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Ezra typed faster as gunshots rang around her. Echoing in unison with the blaring sirens and the danger-dripped lights of emergency protocol. The facility was breached. Screams were hurtling down the corridor at rapid speed, followed by blood-curdling silence. She could imagine armed soldiers rushing through the lab, taking anyone and anything out. She would be one of them.

The only thing left to do now was to wipe the slate clean. Leave nothing to be discovered. She eyed the pistol next to her keyboard, her breath shuddering in her chest. Just in case. She had mere minutes until they reached her and wiped her clean. Part of the protocol. If they got their hands on her, the world will not know what was coming for them. No one would. Not even her family, her family who were promised secure government housing a year ago. Why had she believed their shiny lies?

She typed faster, willing her hands and her wits to stay steady for a moment longer.

My name is Dr. Ezra Mayur, a microbiologist, and epidemiologist at the Centre for Population Control. Yes, it's real. And for the past year, I have been forced to refine a deadly pathogen for Project Rescue, the purpose of which is human population control. I repeat. Human population control. A.k.a. massacre. Smart covert massacre.

If you're reading this, please get as many people out of cities as you can. Go remote. I don't know where I am. I don't even know where my family is, nor do I know the locations being targeted as ground zero. My guess is, if you're in one of the highest populated countries, or cities, you are where the trials will begin.

The pathogen is highly virulent and—

Ezra felt the searing heat as a bullet pierced her shoulder, the force of which knocked her off the stool where she was half-perched, half-hunched, hiding, long enough to send a missive.

"Step away from the computer, Dr Mayur." The warning was cold and lifeless. Military.

No, no! Not yet. You're not meant to be here yet. She struggled to scramble back to her feet as the two black ops specialists began marching into the room to terminate her. Red laser beams landed on her torso, right where her heart beat underneath.

Her breath burbled out of her mouth, tasting of blood. They hit a lung for sure. Panic welled inside her like a spring. Hit send, Ezra. Hit send! Her log was incomplete, but if she didn't send it now, the world would never know what was coming for them. This variant she'd help create.

As she pushed up on the counter, blood sleeking like a macabre painting across her pristine white lab coat, she tried to buy time, time enough for her to hit 'send'. "What did you do to the others?" she asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

One man cocked his head and raised his rifle up towards her forehead. "Orders are orders."

Ezra felt around for her keyboard, sickened. "You killed them?"

"Again. Orders are orders. Now, kindly step away from your station, Dr Mayur. It's over."

"Before you do away with me..." Ezra nodded. What do I do? She reached a shaky hand towards her water bottle, next to her screen.

"Hands where we can see them!" the other soldier who'd remained quiet until now said, his voice oddly familiar in her ears.

"In my culture, we say it's a sin to deny the dying water. Do you mind?" Ezra stared at him. Could it be? Was he seriously here to kill her? Under orders? The man who'd often walk her to her quarter, so she was safe? "Please. It's just water." She staggered back to her feet, her hand landing close to the mouse, which was already hovering over the 'send' button. Do it. "I'm already dying."

"Hold right there, Dr. Mayur. You don't want to go making silly mistakes," the one with the bloodlust said, his finger hovering over the trigger.

She reached for the bottle regardless, leaning her weight on the table. What could they do? Shoot her again? Wooziness was setting in. Dark rings were forming in her vision. I have a minute before I lose consciousness. Top. While unscrewing the bottle cap with a trembling hand, Ezra clicked the mouse with her elbow discreetly. But she'd forgotten the men could see her screen as the email went whooshing toward its destiny. Shit.

"What did you do?" A scuffle sounded behind her, and soon, before she could raise her bottle to her lips, a soldier grabbed her hand, his squeeze so powerful she felt her bones crush and grind. She dropped her bottle, and he twisted her arm behind her back, incapacitating her as he held the barrel of his handgun to her temple. The temptation to pull the trigger was splashed all over his face. "Who did you send it to?"

Ezra laughed, being forced down on her knees, blood sputtering from her mouth. I must look maniacal. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I could kill you right now." The soldier gritted his teeth and pressed the barrel against her temple so hard she felt herself toppling over. Good, I can die here. I deserve to die here.

Ezra closed her eyes and heard a gunshot ring out. This is it. Yet, she felt alive, her blood still pumped through her body, her lungs still ached as they expanded, and her muscles still shivered with fight or flight.

"Your orders might be to terminate all parties," a voice pierced the ringing in her ears. "Mine was to save her pretty little head." The second soldier appeared before Ezra and scooped her up to stand on her own shaky two feet. "Aren't you the lucky one?" there was no jest or flirting in his voice anymore, not like there used to be.

"Kris?"

"Lieutenant Rai," he corrected coldly, eyeing her screen. "Who did you send that to?" He grabbed the mouse and navigated to the sent folder, scrutinising the recipient's name. "You've put someone else in danger."

"Does it matter now?" Ezra scoffed, trying to peer into those familiar eyes behind his get-up. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"Is this the only location for all your research?" He asked coldly, still eyeing her station and not her.

Ezra's heart thumped in her chest. Was it possible to panic while dying? What was the worst that could happen if she said no—despite having an encrypted file in the cloud, buried as deep as she could? If all hell was to break loose, she hoped someone would find her research one day and help the world rid of the monster she created.

"Yes," she lied. She couldn't tell if he believed her or not.

Without a word, he fired several bullets into the CPU tower before turning to her with an icy gaze. "You finally grew some balls and warned somebody, not that you can stop it now. You created this monster, Ezra. And now you're pretending to be the poor tortured doctor who wants to help people flee to safety."

As her vision blurred and her arms weakened till they were jelly, she stared at Krishna Rai, the man she once considered could be the man she would spend her life with – if he chose her. "Then why are you doing this?"

"I don't have a choice." He holstered his gun, pulled another from his back, and pressed it against her ribs. "You were never here."

The gun fired. The tranquiliser dart pierced her skin. Ezra gasped in shock, unable to draw breath in her lungs as he held her in his arms – why are you holding me like this when you hate me so much? Let me fall. Soon, the pain and his hard gaze fizzled to black as her heavy eyelids closed. "Why?"

"You don't want to know." Kris scooped her in his arms as she fought against the pull of the abyss. Where are you taking me? When the darkness came, she did not go willingly. My fault. Let me help save... the world...

A/N: I'm so excited to bring you this story. I've had Ezra's story in my head for a couple of years, but never got around to writing it. Now may be my chance.

What did you think of the opening? 😃
Any theories you already have?